The New Karen
She had an okay life.
She had an okay job, an okay apartment, and her fetish gear were… okay, meaning mainly cheap, bad fitting stuff that broke off often and needed to be repaired, glued, stitched, etc.
Her off-the-race latex catsuit had a long zipper, pulling at the wrong place, and with the badly cut suit pinching at others. Her corset was too tight at the waist and too wide at the top and bottom, her restraints were made of cheap “vegan leather” what ripped in a few places and had to be resewn, she had cheap high heel shoes and boots that were bad fitting, wobbling, and basically trash.
She wished what every fetishist wished.
Then, she had her big break: a long awaited promotion, a huge pay raise, and an unexpected bonus. She was only missing the perfect boyfriend.
Things had improved in her life: she paid off a lot of debts, moved to a nicer, newer soundproof apartment, and most of all, ordered brand new, top of the line, fetish gear, starting with a neck entry latex catsuit.
It was followed by a custom made latex corset, and custom made leather lace-up ballet boots. She also ordered leather restraints, cuffs, collars, harnesses, gags. She built herself a brand new fetish wardrobe.
But, she wanted to prove to herself that she could control her fetishes impulses. She had made herself the promise that she would wear it when she would have everything. The last thing missing was the catsuit and corset, ordered from the same supplier, which had a few months of manufacturing time.
And today, everything aligned: the weather was just perfect, it was a Friday, she was leaving work early at mid-day, and she had received a package at work.
“What is it?” asked a coworker. She had a little crush on him some time ago. Kind of. Sort of. Every time he seemed to be likable, he would do something to keep her away. He seemed awkward, clumsy at times, as much in words as in acts.
“It’s personal, Phil.” she answered with an angel’s smile, hoping to make him fall to her charms.
“Oh, it’s your new… rubber doll?” he asked with a smirk.
“What? Oh! Yes, I bought it especially for you.” she said, handing him the box under the laughs of nearby coworkers, hoping humour would get him to open up.
“Yeah, ha, ha.” he said, walking away, blushing.
Well, it failed again. He was so cute and seemed so… adorable? How come he was always doing what has to be done to be left alone. She wondered. Sometimes, he seems like a nice guy, and other times, he was a real jerk.
She put the box under her desk, brushing off her thoughts and getting back to work. She would open it at home. And now, she was really eager to get home. She knew what was in the box.
She was dressed casually, with flat sole shoes and polyester pants. Even in her everyday life, she would wear jeans, but nothing like those skinny jeggings or something. She was displaying a conservative attitude.
Noon. Time to leave. She grabbed the box and took her usual public transit route to reach her apartment. Her new apartment with hardwood floors. Now she was able to hear the clicking sounds of her heels without disturbing the neighbors. At her old place, she had to keep walking on carpets.
She grabbed a sandwich on her way home and, once home, while eating it, slowly opened the box, welcoming the smell, anticipating the object.
There was a clear plastic envelope with a zipper closure.Inside it, a shiny black lump of rubber, neatly folded. She took it out of the enveloppe and let it unfold, holding it high in the air. She smiled: that suit was perfect.
She put down her half eaten sandwich and took the box and the suit with her toward the bedroom. She wasn’t hungry anymore.
She quickly undressed and took the bottle of lube that came with the suit and began to coat it with it, following the included instructions. She then began to apply a coat on herself and fed her feet through the small neck opening, hardly believing that she could actually fit her whole body through it.
Slowly, the smooth and cold latex, coated her lower leg, her feet, down to the moulded separate toes of the attached socks. Gently, she pulled it upward, sliding it up her thigh, then to her waist.
A little more lube, a little more pulling, the suit raised to her breasts, where, still following the instructions, she fed one arm in, and looked for the sleeve. It easily slid inside it, reaching the attached glove where she wiggled her fingers for the right fit, the neck opening stretching wide now between her neck and her right armpit.
She folded her right arm, getting it inside the suit, looked for the sleeve and fed her arm through it.
The suit slid in place with a funny sound as it sucked all the air out through the neck opening, now closing around her neck.
She stretched her arms, bent down to touch her feet, the suit taking its place, fitting perfectly. She had a wide smile on her face. For the first time, the fit was perfect. She looked at herself in the long mirror and marvelled at the sight: one curvaceous female body with a shiny black skin.
She ran her hands over her breasts, squeezing them, feeling them through two layer of latex: her suit and her rubber coated hands, then slowly slid them down, rubbing her waist, down to her hips, her tights, then turning inside her thighs, riding up to her crotch where she opened the zipper. Two red sheaths dropped down.
Smiling, she took the rectal one and gently pushed it upward where it belonged, then doing the same with the vaginal one. The feeling was awesome, and they were empty. For now.
She closed the zipper and walked to her walk-in closet, way at the back, at her secret stash, where she picked a box and brought it to the bed.
She opened it. Inside were two long black leather tubes, ending in pointed toes with long spiky heels. Those were top of the line ballet boots. She had read, about her old, cheap ones, that anyone being able to walk in those would have no problem walking in a high quality pair. Well, she had been able to achieve walking in the cheap ones and couldn’t wait to try those top of the line out.
She took the left foot and slowly fed her latex covered feet inside the silk lined boot. It felt just right, just comfortable. She proceeded to lace it, carefully, slowly, the wait only building her fantasies. She did the same with the right foot.
Now, heart pounding, legs shaking with anticipation, it was time for the test: she got up and stood on them.
She smiled. Oh yes, those where a galaxy away from her old ones. She immediately began to walk around in her bedroom, even danced in them, discovering a sudden liking for ballet.
Still dancing, she swirled her way around back to the closet to get out with another box, this one containing a long latex corset. She wrapped it around her waist, and began to hand tightening it. When she reached the end of her tightening, she put the loops over a door knob, then walked away from it, pulling the laces tighter, closing the corset. She stopped when it began to be too hard. She felt at the back with her fingers: a little over an inch left to go. Well, this corset was extreme, squishing her waist five inches. It was time to give her body some rest, some time to move her organs around, to make way for it to fully close. Because she would close it. That was her goal.
In the meantime, she walked, or rather danced back to the closet, to come back with two boxes. She laid on the bed and opened the boxes, revealing two huge dildos. She reached for her crotch zipper and opened it. She took the first dildo and slowly inserted it in her rectum, moaning at the size of the intruder. Thanks for the latex sheaths and some lubrification, it went in easily, although being bigger than any other to ever go there.
Then there was the vaginal one. She bit her lower lip while inserting it, giggling, pulling it out, pushing it in, slowly, slowly.
With a devilish smile, she stopped and pushed it fully in, closing the zipper. She would make the pleasure last. It was all part of her setup. It would be devilish, tho. The thought made her smile even more.
She went back to her corset. The rest and the… exercise she did with her hips had made way and she was able to fully close it. It was not exactly easy, but once done and the laces carefully knotted, she ran her hands over her rigid corseted waist and smile. It was amazing. Her shape was amazing. The feeling of the constriction, the latex catsuit, the dildos, the extreme boots, everything was, just, wow.
She danced her way back to the closet and came back with a rather large and heavy box. She put it on the bed and opened it, revealing a stainless steel chastity belt and a set of matching steel cuffs.
She wrapped the waistband of the chastity belt around her constricted waist. It had been made especially for that corset. It was still a little tight but she found it perfect, when it locked. She then took the crotch strap. It would prevent her from playing with the dildos, but as she put it in place, it did push on her dildos. She couldn’t repress doing a few back and forth movements with the crotch strap, just to play with her dildos. She was smiling, even giggling. Well, it was more like a wide grin, eyes wide open. Damn! She never felt anything like that before.
She put the tab in the lock and with a last pull of the strap, a last push on the dildo, like an adult stopping a kid from playing, and she locked it in place.
She liked it. She had excited herself, and then, stopped everything. How self… devilish.
She took the steel cuffs with an embedded brass padlock and wrapped one over her ankles, over knees, elbows and her wrists. There was another one that would go around her neck, but she waited. She had more plans for later, and this was for later.
From her walking closet, she brings back two “Locking Box”, one white and one red. In the red one, she put all the keys to her steel cuffs, including the collar and the chastity belt, put the lid on it and set the timer for 48 hours. Yes, she would be stuck in everything until Sunday late afternoon. She pressed the button and looked at the 5 seconds countdown, the last chance she had to back up, then she listened to a little motor push the locking pins in place.
On the white one, she put the remote control of her dildos, and set the timer for 8 hours. As the countdown crawled to zero, she bit her lower lip. She was devilish in herself. Eight hours of denial. It would only unlock close to midnight.
She walked out of the bedroom, out of the lush carpet, into her hardwood flooring, walking easily on her ballet boots.
Damn! She liked it. Every part of it. All that waiting, all that money, were all worthed.
She spent the rest of the afternoon watching some TV, doing a few chores, getting accustomed to her new setup.. Everything seemed so natural, so easy, she wondered if she wasn’t… MADE for it.
The restriction of the corset? She didn’t notice it.
The extreme balancing on her ballet boots? Like wearing sneakers.
The squeaking of the latex? Symphonic music to her ears.
And the smell of latex? No air freshener could match that.
Dinner time was approaching. She popped open a nice bottle of wine and began preparing a shrimp entree with a light salad, dancing her way back and forth, to the sound of the loud music, another advantage of a soundproof apartment. For an observant, seeing that curvaceous body, every curve shining under the LED lighting of the modern apartment, moving as she danced, twisted, bent, would be mind melting.
She was taking her time, although the dinner would be quite small. She couldn’t eat much with her waist compressed that way.
She was munching on a celery branch when there was a knock at the door. She took another sip of wine.
“Coming!” she said, on the edge of signing, dancing her way to the door, making a few spins along the way, and opening it. It was Phil.
“Oh. Hi Phil. What brings you by?” she asked, joyous, happy, alive.
The man was stunned there for a moment, then raised his hand, holding a MP3-player.
“I… I… euh… player… euh… office. Since I was… euh… passing by, euh… want for… euh… weekend.”
Karen giggled. She never saw him speechless like that.
“Oh, darn. I haven’t noticed. Thank y…” she began to say, extending her arm to take it. Her shiny, black, latex covered arm, with an equally gleaming black latex covered hand and fingers, the shiny blackness interrupted by her bright polished stainless steel wrist cuff.
She kind of froze, looking down, seeing her ample breasts, stretching the latex and emphasis by the tight corset, reflecting the stunned man’s face.
“…yyyou.” she continued, quickly retracting her arm and closing the door over the earbuds cable.
She stood there, panting, eyes wide opened, mouth agape. Damn! She had completely forgotten she was in full fetish gear. That’s how comfortable everything was, but… Phil. He was management. What would he do?
“You… You’re earbuds… euh… stuck in the door… Karen.” she heard him say.
“Yeah… Well…” she paused. What should she do? “…Too bad.” she said, putting her eye on the peephole, looking at him, still stunned, his arm still in the same position as when she ripped the player out of it, frozen in time.
“Well… See you Monday at… the office, Karen.” he said.
“Yes… See you Monday… Phil.” she said, her voice dropping off, at the same time revealing that she was still behind the door.
He smiled. But not a devilish smile, or the smile that someone had a plan to blackmail. No. It was a genuine smile. A happy smile. A…pleasant smile. Then he turned and walked away, not looking back.The few steps she saw him make as he walked away were… weird. Almost like, dancing.
Karen’s arms dropped. What the hell happened here?. She waited some more, confirmed that there was nobody nearby through the peephole and quickly opened and closed the door, staying well hidden, only quick and wide enough to retrieve her earbuds.
She walked back to the kitchen. Phil’s stunned face was still imprinted on her retinas.
“Damn!” she said.
She went back to preparing her dinner, suddenly very aware of how she was looking, wondering what he thought, making scenarios for the next work day, how to react, what to say.
But, dressed like that, that was who she was, and a french saying goes “chassez le naturel et il revient au galop”, which could be loosely translated by “chase away your natural behavior, and it will just keep running back in”.
And the natural came back. The pleasure of feeling the rubber glide on her wet skin, having to work against its tightness for the simplest task, fighting the corset with every breath, seeking the right balance on those extreme boots, all of that, got her to send Phil’s thoughts away. Anyways. What can she do?
She enjoyed her light meal. She enjoyed what she had to do to make it, to serve it, to eat it, and to clean the mess she had made doing it.
Oh. Yes. The bottle of wine helped too.
It was time for the second step of the setup. Back in her bedroom, she picked a heavy black rubber hood with a molded face including a molded nose and mouth. She carefully put her tongue into the false rubber tongue, short tubes ran up her nose for breathing and she carefully stretched it to fit over her head, before pulling down the back zipper, sealing her head in rubber, leaving two dark tinted lenses for her to see. The collar of the hood included a yoke she carefully put under the neck of her catsuit, then taking the steel collar that was left from her first setup, she wrapped it around her neck.
It was somewhat tight and she felt her neck being squished as she closed it.
She heard the click of the lock and smiled. Since the zipper handle of the hood was now below the collar, there was no way for her to take it off. For the next 16 hours, that is.
She spent the rest of the evening watching TV, reading, getting up and dancing everytime she wanted a sip of wine. She had poured the wine into a squeezing bottle. To drink, she hooked the straw of the bottle up a small plug inside her rubber mouth. Squeezing the bottle shoots some wine in her mouth. Wine and rubber. Not exactly the best of taste, but that was not really important.
She put the bottle back down. Oh, she had no choice, it was chained to the counter. It would have been too easy to take it to the living room or wherever she wanted. But it was out of the question. No, she wanted the task, the challenge. She wanted to move.
A few hours later, she heard the faint hum indicating that the white Locking Box had released. She walked to her bedroom and opened it, retrieving the remote and, hands shaking, pressed the ON button. Her legs almost let go as the two dildos began to vibrate together, then as their random programs hit, went on into a dance, an unpredictable dance. Sometimes with long pauses, sometimes with long vibrating pulses.
Karen’s setup wasn’t completed. She linked her ankle cuffs with a short chain. She hesitated before closing the padlock: that key was with the cuffs ones. She would be stuck hobbling for a long time. The dildos suddenly firing made her twitch and snapped the lock shut. She giggled. This was probably meant to be.
She now had nothing to object to add another short chain to her knee cuffs.
She threw herself on the bed, on her back. The dildos were wreaking havoc in her crotch, but she had cut off all access. First with the chastity belt, and second when she tied her legs together. All she could do was rock her hips up and down. This was just enough to tease her, to keep her on the edge, but nothing to launch the rocket.
She had only herself to blame.
She loved it.
Time to set herself up for the night. She grabbed the white Locking Box and put it besides her on the bed. Sitting on the edge of the foot of the platform bed, she bent and retrieved a hidden chain. She brought her ankles together so that the D rings of each cuff were overlapping then snapped the quick link of the chain over them. Using her hands, she crawled backward on the bed until the chain was taut. Taking a lock from her night table, she laid on her back and with her hands, reached for another chain at the head of the bed, pulled on it and used the padlock to link it to her collar.
She had no easy way to get out of the bed, now. The length of the chain was not enough to feel stretched, pulled or strangled, but were not allowing a lot of free movement.
Taking another padlock, she linked her wrists together in front of her, before reaching for the Locking Box and putting the keys in. She took it and put it on her night table. Doing so all fixed up, she knew that she would be able to grab it when the timer would release.
She took the lid and, looking at the display, began to increase the time. Then, smiling under her rubber filled mouth, she closed her eyes and gave the wheel a spin before putting it on the container, pushing the button. She counted and waited for the mechanism to lock.
There. She was setup for the night. How long exactly? She had no clue. Oh, sure, all she has to do is grab the container and look at the remaining time, but she would not do it. The problem with self bondage is its predictability. She wanted the surprise, the unpredictability.
She tried to relax. She was stuck on her back for the whole night. As the dildos fired, she realized two things:
1- She had left the bedroom lights opened
2- The remote of the dildos were on top of her dresser. Out of reach.
With the random setup, she knew that batteries could last up to 12 hours.
“Well,” she thought. “You weren’t expecting much sleep anyway.”
She tried to rock her hips, up, down, sideways, tried to force her rubber fingers under the belt. Nope. All access was denied.
The night would be long, and quite pleasurable.
The Morning After
The night has been long.
The night has been pleasurable.
The night has also been hellish, painful, disturbing and restless.
The night has been a dream come true.
She was aching from everywhere. The dildos were still firing and she was eager to be able to stretch, to bend, to move, because for close to 10 hours now, she had been stuck laying on her back, legs together, wrists cuffs in front of her, tied on her bed.
Between two noisy breaths through the small tubes running up her nose from the moulded rubber hood, she heard the faint hum of the Locking Box lid releasing its grip on the container. Rolling on her side as much as her bonds allowed it, she stretched her linked arms to grab the Locking Box container and bring it closer.
It slipped her rubber wrapped fingers and she desperately juggled with it to grab it back, throwing the lid away, but fortunately, she was able to get it.
With a sigh of relief, heart beating hard, she reached inside it to retrieve the keys. She fondled with them to release her wrist cuffs, then reached over her head to free her neck chain. She then, pulling on her bound ankles, folded herself almost into a fetus position, working her thighs muscles that were screaming to move from their elongated position.
Still using her bound ankles, she pulled herself to the edge of the footbed, then bent down to remove the quicklink from her ankle cuffs.
There! She was free. She was still encased in rubber from head to toe, locked inside an extremely tight corset by a steel chastity belt, feet locked in ballet boots and legs bound together with short chains, but she Was free… from the bed.
Damn, she would have liked to open her legs. For one because they were longing to, for two, the dildos were still firing.
She was so horny…
She thought that was the toughest part, being kept on the edge for so long. But instead of reaching for the remote and turning the teasing off, she simply walked out of the bedroom, hopping her way to the kitchen to make herself a smoothie.
Well, she couldn’t have anything solid through a straw.
She wondered, as she was putting the different fruits and vegetables in the blender, if she had gone a little too far with her setup for the weekend. Maybe she should have tried for 12 or 24 hours at first. Just to see. Just to experience it.
Oh, she could always smash the acrylic of the Locking Box and get the keys out of it, after all, that was her emergency release method, but then, it would defeat the purpose of the device.
And then she would have to wait for the delivery of a new one to have fun again.
No, she would not chicken out of her setup. If she was controlled by a Master or a Mistress, she would have no choice, unless she was getting harmed.
For now, only her psyche was getting harmed, but it was something she was looking forward to.
She didn’t have much to do, except perhaps, take back the missing sleep time. She set herself up in the living room, in front of the TV and began to read a book. The dildos have stopped. She felt good in her latex catsuit, corset and steel restraints, legs stretched on the footrest.
She was herself. This was who she was. Really.
Slowly, the E-reader began to tip forward, softly landing on her corseted waist, as her fingers let it go, as her arms gently slipped to her side, as her head fell backward, as her body and brain slowly took a much needed rest.
It wasn’t exactly sleep,it was more exhaustion, but nevertheless, when she came back out of it nearly four hours later, she was happy. If she was able to sleep like that, it opened a lot of opportunities. If she only does them step by step, gradually.
She didn’t have a lot to do,and she couldn’t do a lot either: most chores were already done, and, apart from reading, watching TV, or pre-cook a series of lunches for the next working week, she had nothing to do. She made herself a diet shake she was sipping off from time to time. She often thought about getting a treadmill. Now, she would. She was already planning a setup where she couldn’t get out until the distance goal was achieved.
But preparing food, forced to hobble, unable to taste it, barely able to smell it, was different. She just hoped the seasoning was right. She began to imagine the punishment she would be given by a Master if something was wrong. Could she punish herself? Would she? Silly question. Of course she would.
Now, on a day like that, when she would not be needed, what would a Master do? She hobbled back to her closet, into her box of hardware, and found what she needed: two screwing O-ring. She moved some hanging clothes away to clear an area large enough for her to fit, then kneeled.
She screwed the first ring close to the floor and the other one at about neck level when kneeling. She took a few padlocks and some lengths of chains, along with the white Locking Box, and backed up, kneeling at the wall. She locked her ankles to the lower ring, and used another length of chain to link her neck to the upper ring. She placed the Locking Box besides her legs and, mimicking her arms tied together, she tried to reach it: yes, this would work.
She prepared the timer on it for two hours, put the keys in it and locked her wrists together with a length of chain, then fondled with the last padlock to lock the chain to her ankles. Once done, she reached for the Locking Box to push the start button but… she couldn’t reach it.
Internally, she laughed, realizing that she had placed the box there with her wrists linked but without the ankle chain. Her internal laugh died out when she also realized that, if she couldn’t reach the box to start it, she wouldn’t reach it to retrieve the keys.
Voices were arguing inside her head. Her sensible voice and her fetish voice.
“Well, That’s smart Karen. You don’t have any chicken buttons here.”
“I always dreamed of being stuck like that.”
“Except this time, this is not a dream.”
“Yeah, silly me.”
“I’m really eager to see how you’ll get out of that one.”
“Me too, but in the meantime, why not enjoy it.”
“In the meantime? Enjoy it? You know your dildo batteries are dead, right?”
“Yeah. Should have thought about a way to recharge them. Anyways, I’ve setup this thing for two hours. Better enjoy it and think about how to get out of it later.”
Even though her dildos were silent, the little movements she could make made them move, just slightly, but they were enough to stimulate her.
And the thoughts. A big part of thetish pleasure is in the mind. So the thoughts. Those thoughts. She was stuck, as far as she knew. She could be there for a few days, before the office decided to call in the cops to look on her after missing a few days of work.
That made her hot. She was restrained by a Master. Perhaps the Master of the Universe, but whoever it was, she was stuck.
She continued her up/down movements. Each time she was reaching the end of the neck chain, it was slightly choking her. She liked it. She was moving slowly, then getting faster and faster, as the pleasure grew. It was teasing her really badly. Then those thoughts, “bound for life” filled her mind. The orgasm built up. Its spring was stretched more and more until, in a powerful explosion, it released.
She launched, her body shaken by the most powerful orgasm she ever experienced, pulling on her chains to the point where picture frames began to fall off on the other side of the wall.
And it was a multistage rocket. As soon as one orgasm was dying, another one took its place, again and again.
The pull on her neck, the limits of her wrist chains, the restricted breathing, her rubber filled mouth, the lenses fogging up. It was sensory overload, and she never thought she could have so many… sensors!
Slowly (finally?), the orgasms died out. She was panting heavily. Her heart wanting to jump out of her ribcage to go on a vacation. She could hear its pounding in her head as it gradually slowed down. But each little movement, of her body, legs, arms, ears, whatever, were having an effect on the dildos, moving them, even slightly, and she was still so hot that even those oh so little rubbing made her mind cringe for more, while the rest of her body was screaming STOP, DAMN IT. STOP!
She stood still. Well, tried to. It was so good. Just a little more teasing. Why not? It’s not like she was going anywhere soon.
So, she enjoyed it. For a while. But quickly, a problem arose. She was sitting on her ankles with little movement possible. Her knee steel cuffs were not giving anything. More, they were cutting good blood flow. She was feeling her feet getting numb. She had to move, but her movements were limited.
The feelings of her dildos were not registered anymore. Health was the main concern. She had to get out of there.
She went slowly, trying to move the chains to their extreme position. She was able to touch the Locking Box. If she could only drag it.
She felt it tipping, falling on her calf. Now, she was able to grab the large button with her fingers and pull on it, but only the cover came. She was unable to grab the container itself.
She had one solution. Working the cover button, she turned it counterclockwise to remove time. She knew that it wouldn’t go lower than zero, yet she needed some time with it locked to the container to pull the box along.
She realized that she never really noticed how much time one turn was giving, or even half a turn. She needed one or two minutes, but if it released too soon, the container could slip out of reach.
She gave it about a quarter of turn. Well that’s what she estimated it to be, then pressed the button and waited for the mechanism to close.
Once done, she grabbed the large button and pulled the container between her calves and waited, hoping it was not a few hours.
Unbeknown to her, the container indicated 18 minutes.
It seemed like an eternity. She was trying to move, but not too much so the Locking Box would drop.
Finally, she heard it unlock. She carefully pulled the locking lid off and reached inside for the keys. She undid her wrist then her neck, quickly laying down on her stomach, her ankles fully linked to the wall. But she didn’t care. She wanted her legs to un-numb.
She moved her hips up and down, which moved her dildos. With her feet still firmly bound to the wall, she tried to crawl away, pulling on her ankles, bumping her chastity belt on the ground. Damn! She was screwing herself.
A few moments later, she exploded. It was mild compared to the ones she had when fully bound up. She knew she would never be able to achieve the same intensity without being fully restrained with the release out of her control. She was trapped. Her mind was trapped.
Already, in her mind, ideas were forming, devices were being constructed. Yes, she would come up with something. Probably. Hopefully.
She spent the rest of the evening sitting in the living room, with a pad and a pen, writing ideas, scenarios, imagining devices. They all had one of two drawbacks: no emergency escape, meaning she would be really stuck, or an emergency escape, meaning she could get out of it at any time.
She slowly drifted into sleep, dreaming of devices, or scenarios, where in all of them, she was at the mercy of a Master, enjoying every minute of it.
She awakened after midnight, dragged herself to the bed, and collapsed on it.
The sun shining through her window, hitting her in the face, woke her up. She looked at the red locking box: a little less than eight hours to go.
She had her fun, she was eager to get out of it, have a real meal, and most of all, take a long shower. She was literally floating in sweat in her sealed latex catsuit.
That night, laying in the bed naked, she didn’t sleep well. Actually, not at first. She found sleep only after she put on a tight PVC catsuit. She was addicted to wearing something tight to sleep.
A New Week
Back to work. Back to plain cotton clothes and low heel shoes. The policy of the office didn’t want anything sexually inclined, so no tight clothes, no high heels. Only politically correct business attires.
She walked to her office, and to do so, she had to pass in front of Phil’s office. She did it quickly, without looking. She was waiting for her computer to boot when he knocked on the opened door.
“Hello Karen. Good morning. Had a good weekend?” he asked.
He was smiling, his usual charming smile, but it was different. It wasn’t as distant as it used to be. It was much… warmer.
“Yes, thank you.” she answered, not knowing what to say, what to add. “I…”
The phone rang. Saved by the bell. He winked as she answered and went away. She was quickly drawn back to work.
At around 10, she was coming back from the office kitchen with a coffee when she came across him in a corridor. He approached her, blocking her way.
“Listen… hum… Karen… hum… I…” he was saying, slowly pushing her to a corner.
“Damn” she said to herself. “Here comes the blackmail”.
She felt it. Strong. Dominant. She felt she had to… obey him. He gently yet firmly, without ever touching her, pushed her in the corner so that he could see both ways and make sure nobody was nearby at the same time prevented Karen from moving away.
With his melting smile, he looked down at his chest, pulled away his tie and undid a button of his dress shirt, opening it slightly. He then looked at Karen with a large smile.
“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” he said.
Karen looked in amazement at his shirt, or rather at the black shiny rubbery patch underneath it.
“I’m a latex fetishist myself, and I swore I wouldn’t go out with anybody that isn’t one, that’s why I gently pushed you away when you tried to hit on me the other day.”
Karen’s mind was racing. He was so hot, so manly, so… gorgeous. She wanted to go out with him, but she had made her mind and given up all hopes. But now… What the hell was happening here?”
“So…” he said, still smiling while putting the button back and his tie in place, “would you want to go out for dinner some time?”
“Err… yeah.” she answered, taken by surprise. By a LOT of surprises. “Sure… “
“Perfect!” he said, smiling even more. “Okay, tonight? I’ll pick you out at 20:00. Wear what you want but… please…” he said, looking hesitant, lowering his voice “… wear your catsuit underneath.” he said with a wink, before leaving, wiggling his fingers and smiling.
Karen was melting in place.
He didn’t really ask. He more or less sweetly commanded, ordered. He was so cute, so sexy, so… dominant. She had found her Master.
© Pete / monsterp63, January 2018
I’m not here to make any free publicity, but the “locking box” I’m talking about in this story exists and I’m referring to this:
I would be curious to know how many self-bondage enthusiasts own one. I know I do.
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